Every Rose has it's Thorn
by TheologyDiscography
Summary: Draco hears Harry singing at a house party. What will he do? Songfic to 'Every Rose has it's Thorn' by Poison.


**lyrics from 'Every Rose Has It's Thorn' by Poison, charas from the Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling**

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"Harry? Will you sing for us?" Hermoine murmurs gently, breaking into his contemplation of the newest couple to arrive at the minister's party. He looks up with a smile that's only slightly forced.

"Sure, 'Moine, just let me get my guitar." He walks out of the library, leaving her standing at the window-seat where he'd been, returning with his beloved guitar to find a makeshift performance area of a stool and several chairs, most of them filled. He sat on the stool and started his warmup. He strumed slowly, then started the only song he could think of at the moment. The sight out of the window of the silver-blond on the arm of another had sent him spiraling back down into his depression.

_**We both lie silently still**_

_**In the dead of the night**_

_**'Though we both lie close together**_

_**We feel miles apart inside**_

His singing spoke of a desperate longing, and none who heard it were uneffected. Tears poured openly down Hermione's face as she wondered what had happened to cause her best friend such pain, that he couldn't help but channel it into his music. He had mostly gotten control of his unusual ability to play magic, but things that effected him strongly still expressed themselves in his music. Apperently his Bardic gift didn't allow him to keep everything bottled up inside, for which she was grateful, because Harry had always worried her when he started doing that.

_**Was it something I said, or something I did**_

_**Did my words not come out right**_

_**'Though I tried not to hurt you**_

_**Though I tried**_

_**But I guess that's why the say**_

In the ballroom, Draco heard the sound of a guitar in between songs from the orchestra, and was intregued. He'd heard Harry play the guitar, once, and he'd loved the sound. He politely excused himself, and went to find the source of the planitive music.

_**Every rose has it's thorn**_

_**Just like every night has it's dawn**_

_**Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song**_

_**Every rose has it's thorn**_

_**Yeah it does**_

Harry bent his head, trying to keep the tears from showing as he thought of Draco, and how they'd broken up. It had been very painful for him, though he never could tell anything through the Malfoy mask Draco wore. Once it had been exciting, trying to tell what Draco was thinking through the mask, but on that last night, it had nearly killed him when Draco turned that cold, blank gaze on him.

_**I listen to our favorite song**_

_**Playing on the radio**_

_**Hear the DJ say loves a game of easy come and**_

_**Easy go**_

_**But I wonder, does he know**_

_**Has he ever felt like this**_

_**And I know that you'd be here right now**_

_**If I could've let you know somehow**_

_**I guess**_

The pain in the singer's voice drew him for some reason. The voice was familliar, but for the life of him, he couldn't identify it. He slid to the door of the library, left slightly ajar, and slipped unobtrusively inside. He swallowed hard at the sight before him: Harry, bent over a guitar, tears filling his eyes as he played, clearly not paying any attention to the rest of the world. But now that he knew who it was, he couldn't leave. He was filled with the nearly overwhelming urge to do something, anything, to comfort him, but doing so would mean opening up the raw wounds that their breakup had left in his soul. It hadn't been any easier on him than it had on Harry, though he made sure nobody knew that.

_**Every rose has it's thorn**_

_**Just like every night has it's dawn**_

_**Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song**_

_**Every rose has it's thorn**_

Hermione looked over at a sudden movement in the corner of her eye, and nearly gasped at the sight of Draco Malfoy standing there, looking torn. As if sensing her gaze, he turned his eyes from Harry to her, mask back in place, raising an eyebrow coldly. She turned away.

_**Though it's been awhile now**_

_**I can still feel so much pain**_

_**Like the knife that cuts you the wound heals**_

_**But the scar, that scar remains**_

Draco returned to his study of Harry, trying to convince himself that Harry'd been fine without him, with no success. He was thinner, too thin. There were deep circles under his eyes, as though he didn't sleep well anymore. He probably still had nightmares and now he had no one to comfort him after them.Then he shook back a sleeve that was getting in the way of his playing, and Draco saw them. Scars. All up his arm, and probably on the other one, too. Scars that had not been there when they broke up, of that Draco was sure.

_**I know I could've saved a love that night**_

_**If I'd known what to say**_

_**Instead of making love**_

_**We both made our seperate ways**_

Of course he was responsible for Draco leaving. He was responsible for everything. Nothing happened that they didn't claim he was involved in, one way or another. If he'd just been a better partner, a better lover, maybe he wouldn't have felt the need to move on, to leave Harry for a new adventure, a new conquest. Because apperently that was all he'd really been to Draco; a conquest, someone to be with until he ceased to amuse, then leave. A tear streamed down his cheek, soon followed by others, and he was greatful of the song that distracted the others, so none of them saw his display of weakness. After a moment he looked up, straight into the solemn eyes of the one person he'd been thinking about.

_**But now I hear you found somebody new**_

_**And that I never meant that much to you**_

_**To hear that tears me up inside**_

_**And to see you cuts me like a knife**_

_**I guess**_

The emotion in that song cut him to the heart as Harry looked up, face tearstained, to gaze brokenly into his eyes. The emerald eyes he loved so much were full of pain, and longing, and it shook him to the core to know that he effected Harry so. He knew Harry loved him, that's why he'd had to leave. Because the thought of anyone loving him like Harry'd loved him frightened him. And the thought that he was falling in love frightened him more. He'd thought that they'd both get over it if they seperated; clearly he'd been wrong. He knew beyond any doubt that Harry wasn't getting over him, and his heart was insisting that he wasn't getting over the black-haired young man, either.

_**Every rose has it's thorn**_

_**Just like every night has it's dawn**_

_**Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song**_

_**Every rose has it's thorn**_

As the song finished, he bowed his head again, taking advantage of the momentary lull to wipe the tears from his face before the music faded. He stood, and with that motion, his impromptu audience emerged once again into the real world, from the place his talent had taken them. Hermione approched him, but he held her off with a wave of his guitar, indicating that he was going to put it away. She gave him a look that said she _was_ going to talk to him, but let him escape for now.

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Draco watched Harry leave with a sense of loss. How to fix this? Since, apperently, his brilliant plan hadn't worked. All he had done was hurt himself, andmore importantly, hurt Harry. He hadn't meant to hurt Harry like this. But he didn't know if Harry could ever forgive him, and he didn't know if he had the courage to ask for forgiveness.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione had come up behind him while he was thinking. Her voice was harsh, obviously she had put together the clues and knew that he was the one Harry was singing about. He sighed.

"I heard the guitar, and I wanted to know who was playing. I happen to love the guitar. But I rather wish I hadn't been so curious now. I feel guilty."

"And just what do you feel guilty for, Malfoy?" He winced inwardly at the venom in her tone.

"For hurting him. I never meant to hurt him like that." And he walked off before she could come up with a comeback. She probably wouldn't accept that he really did regret it, anyway.

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Hermione pounced on him the moment he stepped back into the room. He ignored her, already knowing what she was going to say, and headed back over to his window seat. there was already someone curled up on it, but it was large, and there was enough space for him to sit too.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked the unknown person politely, and they drew their legs up a little to give him a little more space, not turning away from the window. Hermione finally acknowledged he wasn't in a mood to talk to her, and placed a sisterly kiss on his cheek before returning to the party. He curled up and rested his forehead on his knees, completely ignoring his seat-mate, shoulders shaking with silent tears.

Suddenly warm arms wrapped around him, and a beloved voice spoke into his ear. "Shh, don't cry, Harry, I'm sorry, don't cry, _please_ don't cry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . ." He looked up again, into Draco Malfoy's eyes, and they were just as tear filled as his own. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you like that, please don't cry anymore Harry. . . ."

He reached a shaking hand up to touch Draco's face, hesitantly, fearing that he'd lost it, because surely Draco wasn't really there, begging him not to cry.

"D-draco?" he whispered. Draco nodded.

"It's me. I'm here. I'm so sorry, Harry, I didn't know I'd hurt you like that. I thought you'd find someone else, that you'd be OK. I'm so sorry, Harry. So, so sorry."

"Shh. It's OK."

"No it's not. It's not. It's not at all OK. I shouldn't've hurt you. I promised I wouldn't hurt you."

"But you're here now." They stared into each other's eyes for a timeless moment, then, without any thought leaned together, sharing a sweet kiss. When they pulled back, neither of them could think of anything to say. They just stared at each other, taking in the presence of the one they had been denied for so long.

"Harry?" Draco said at last. "I- I love you."

"I love you too, Draco. I always have."

"I know. It frightened me." Draco looked away, torn between the need to protect himself, and the need to make Harry understand why he'd left.

"What frightened you?"

"That you loved me. That I was falling in love with you. I didn't know how to handle it. Still don't, but if you're willing to give me another chance, I'm willing to learn." He pulled Harry close, and sighed with contentment as Harry curled into his embrace. Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder, and slipped into a peaceful sleep.

-

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'Maybe I should check on Harry. . . .' Hermione mused. She hadn't seen him in a couple of hours. She made her way back to the library, and the window-seat he'd claimed when he first arrived.

"What do you think you're doing?" she growled at Malfoy, who was wrapped around Harry far too tightly for her peace of mind, after what he'd done to Harry.

"Shh. You'll wake him," he protested.

"Too late," Harry murmured sleepily. He looked up at her. "Whatcha need, 'Mione?"

"I just came to check up on you, and I'm glad I did, finding you asleep with him wrapped around you like he has any right-" Harry closed his eyes again.

"If that's all you have to say, I'm gong back to sleep." He linked his fingers through Draco's and slipped back into his dreams, taking the image of Draco's tender smile with him. Hermione started at them in shock, as Draco softly swept the dark hair back from Harry's eyes, completely ignoring her to kiss his forehead.

"I think it's time he went to bed," Draco murmured, standing up with Harry in his arms. "If you wouldn't mind. . . . " Hermione nodded slowly, and led him to Harry's room, as it was obvious he wouldn't pass Harry into her care. She watched as he gently undressed Harry and tucked him into the bed, and found a chair to pull near the bed. "I think I'll sit here with him for a while. You can rejoin the party." It was not a request. She left.

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"Draco?!"

"Shh. I'm here." He reached out and took Harry's hand. Harry pulled him onto the bed. Sighing softly, he streched out, taking Harry into his arms.

"Stay with me?"

"Always."


End file.
